God's Don't Bleed
by FrankandJoe3
Summary: The world looks up to heroes, but sometimes the heroes wish the world would look away for five minutes.


**This was either inspired by 300 or Hercules. I couldn't tell you which for the life of me. This was another one I had abandoned a while ago because I thought it might be a little... controversial what with the deity mention. But seriously, let's get our babies equipped in head-to-toe gear. That bicep action could get them killed. **

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><p>For as long as humanity has kept records, there has been a mention of a higher power. Starting from little more than the mentions of the fathers heading their tables, they went on to describe leaders and kings and emperors, all the way to the deity and deities they sent their countless prayers to.<p>

When the world turns dark and fate doesn't go one's way, it always seems to be easiest to put the blame on something or someone else. If someone close is killed, it's easier to blame the ambulance for not getting there sooner or other people in the area for not stepping in instead of just accepting that they're dead and that it can't be undone. If a child dies, it's the fate of a cruel God. The rush of drugs starts to become addicting and it's the parents' fault for not raising better children. The increase in crime is the president's fault, and not that of the people committing them.

In the same way, it's more comforting to think that there's always something or someone protecting you. When a bus skids off a bridge and all the children inside survive, it's a work of God. The sketchy looking kids down at the card shop stop showing up and it's obviously the work of the police in your town. That overly attached couple hasn't been making out in front of your locker for the past few days and the principal must've had something to do with it. One finds themselves with the strength to walk the streets alone at night because a cruiser passed by a few hours ago and the police are obviously only concerned about that one person's safety until they got home.

This higher power idea was good and bad for its believers and non-believers, fueling hope, despair, and a neutral sense of indifference in the latter. Rarely do the believers and their counter part ever consider the side of the higher power, though.

While the sides of deities and deceased leaders are irretrievable, there are some more mortal higher powers whose opinions can more easily be sought out. In such a world where a league of heroes stands at the ready, one might think it would be easy enough, but most of those heroes couldn't be paid to share those opinions.

Now, burrowed into a tight corner made from a chunk blasted from a large concrete pillar, one hero was really wishing he was anything else as the shots outside kept on relentlessly. Robin was clutching a bare section of his arm hard enough for his knuckles to whiten, head pressed back against the stone with gritted teeth while blood managed to slip out from beneath his fingers. The bullet had miraculously shot clean through, but Kid Flash was taking his time in retrieving the lost utility belt and the young hero was starting to get pretty dizzy.

"Second we get back, m'gonna have Batman remake my costume," he hissed in pain, alternating pulses in his other fist to try and stay calm enough to not accelerate the blood loss. "I'm getting a Kevlar bodysuit, neck to toe, double enforced. Going to replace this little toothpick mask with a helmet, and the visor's going to be bulletproof, also double enforced."

A particularly hard throb in his arm made him shout behind a clenched jaw and he stamped his feet hard against the scattered gravel.

"Going to sue every bullet company. Guns are now illegal. No one's allowed to shoot anything ever again," he punctuated every word of the last sentence by slamming his head back against the rock of the pillar.

He followed it with a long string of cuss words that he wasn't 100% sure existed as they entwined and knotted with the one next to it. Several studies with cussing and pain tolerance had crossed his laptop screen, but he couldn't remember a word of them right now- except their choice profanities.

"KF!" he tried to scream, but his voice hollowed and it was hoarse before he could get anything out of it.

Lucky for him, the speedster had located the frayed belt and was kneeling in front of him in a matter of a blur. There was worry in the semi-masked green eyes, but he wore a friendly smile to try and cover it up.

"Hey, buddy, how you holding up?" he asked over the sound of the gunfire, unfolding what he could of the belt to rifle through its pockets.

Robin lowered his chin enough for the other to see his eyes narrow, but he didn't manage to produce a solid answer until the redhead had a small wipe in one hand and bandages in the other.

"I've been shot. Take a few guesses," he grit out tightly.

Kid Flash held his eyes and an apology passed through, but it wasn't said and it wasn't accepted. Instead, he held up the wipe first and watched his friend's face tighten.

"We've got camera crews plastered everywhere around here, Rob, and the people watching think you're some kind of god. Gods don't bleed, remember?" he tried to lighten the mood, grin shaking faintly.

He was at least 54% sure there was an eye roll in there somewhere and it was the encouragement he was looking for.

"Don't worry, man, I'll have you cleaned and bandaged before you even realize you let go of your arm. We're going to patch you up, patch your belt, finish off these sorry losers and get you home for some TLC," he promised, readying himself with a little nervous breath. "On three: one... two..."

As he hit three, Robin pried his bloodied fingers up off of his arm. The pain was all at once, and then a pressure a little harder than his hand was back. He let go of the breath he had held and it shuddered as it settled. Kid Flash set the bloody wipe down in the gravel, wiping his gloves off by smoothing back his hair and hooking the pockets of the utility belt again. A little glance down confirmed that the job was done, aside from a few dried patches of blood that had settled on the back of the sleeve of his costume.

"Thanks," the ebony managed with a little groan, sorely rolling his shoulder.

The older of the two made several series of knots between the frayed halves of the belt until they seemed to hold together well enough, to which he offered it back.

"I don't think TLC's gonna help this baby back on its feet, but it might help _this _one," he gave a little smile, offering a hand out to the other.

Robin accepted it with his good hand and let himself be pulled to his feet, groaning under his breath about the throb that had now replaced his heartbeat. Before they could go anywhere, a gloved hand was at his shoulder and Kid Flash had ducked down enough to hold eye contact, his other hand hovering in a halt motion to make sure his friend stayed still.

"You alright to be fighting out here?" he asked, searching the blank panes of glass for emotion that he wouldn't be able to find in them.

The ebony returned his earlier smile with a nod. "Yeah, man. I'm a god, remember?"

Kid Flash gave a little flinch before straightening up with a laugh.

"That's what I like to hear. Try not to get shot again, alright? I'm not sure if you can rise a second time. Once seemed to be Jesus' limit."

When Robin gave a breathy laugh, the redhead knew everything was as close to normal as it could get again, and he took it as his sign to dash off to rejoin the battle. Robin was right behind him.

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><p><strong>-F.J. III<strong>


End file.
